


definitions of existence

by alpheridies



Series: Kinktober 2020 [2]
Category: The Collector Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cutting, Fantasizing, Knifeplay, M/M, Nipple Play, Reader-Insert, Restraints, Violent Sex, YOU fuck the collector
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28040520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpheridies/pseuds/alpheridies
Summary: Asa goes down hard.
Relationships: The Collector (Collector Series)/Reader, The Collector (Collector Series)/You
Series: Kinktober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043826
Kudos: 13





	definitions of existence

**Author's Note:**

> for kinktober day 19: hate sex & day 20: noncon

Asa goes down hard. 

The force of your body slamming him into the ground knocks the air from his lungs. For a few moments, barely ten seconds if you’ve counted right, he lays paralyzed, trying to catch his breath with the weight of you still pressing him down. 

The knife was easy to find, sitting heavy in the inner pocket of his jacket. You press it to Asa’s throat. It’s an obvious power play, you’d never want to kill him when there’s still fun to be had. You want him warm, anyway. 

His breath catches in his throat and he stills. You can feel the rapid beating of his heart, where the side of your hand is pressed to his carotid. He tenses, body going rigid underneath your own, and begins to thrash. 

He struggles against your hold, and you let him, just a bit. He’s not much bigger than you, and all he succeeds in doing is tiring himself out as he tries to get himself standing. You take the knife from his neck, holding it tight and pointing it away from anything important. It’s almost funny, watching him try and force you off him. Strong enough to carry a body, you think, he should be able to do better than this. He tries to roll, get you on your back. You dig your knees into his sides. 

_ “Don’t,” _ You hiss, patience worn thin, and slam his head against the ground, using the laces of his mask as a grip. 

The air around you is cold, a soft summer chill. Asa’s body is warm against your thighs. 

“On your back.” You say, standing up just enough to allow him to move. He rises to his knees, keeping his head pressed to the ground. You give him a few moments to catch his breath. When he doesn’t move any further, you kick him in the side. Not as hard as you could, but enough that there’s still a chance his ribs are broken. 

Asa groans softly, the force knocking him on his side. He falls on his back, one hand resting over his injured ribs. 

Immediately, you descend on him, straddling his abdomen, careful not to put pressure on his side. A reward of sorts, for not trying to escape or attack you. You settle your weight on his chest, knife returning to his throat, and place a cold hand on his cheek. The leather is rough and worn, like an old couch. You tap your fingers against it, mimicking the rhythm of a well remembered tune. 

“Don’t bite,” You whisper in his ear, and kiss him, wet and messy through the slit in his mask. 

He tastes of iron, smells of it too, as though all he’s made of is strangers’ blood. You run your tongue over his teeth, the soft spongy insides of his cheek, over his tongue and the hard roof of his mouth, drooling more than necessary, though it adds to the experience, this mess you’re making of Asa, and he just lays there and takes it, lets you ruin him with little more than an empty threat to coax him into it. 

Asa moans into the kiss, and you’re sure you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t plastered to his front. You sit up, bracing yourself on his chest. 

You skirt your fingers along the hem of his mask. You kept it on for yourself, knowing the way his face must look underneath is enough. It’s easier for him to think you don’t know him, to see him as a stranger. Asa tenses when you slip the tips of your fingers under the leather. You stroke the skin there, and withdraw them to rest on his stomach. 

You push his sweater up to his collarbones. He doesn’t help you, keeping his hands clamped around your wrists even as you cup his pec with your free hand and  _ squeeze, _ moaning softly as you do. 

You roll a nipple between your thumb. Asa flinches back, away from your touch. His grip falters, and you grin, all teeth. You slide back, ass pressed to his groin, and lean down to suck a hickey on his chest. The bruise is dark in the orange glow of the streetlight. Asa’s nails dig into your wrist through his gloves when you bite down. His hips buck up, cock hard in his jeans. You grind back against it, and laugh when his legs come together. 

“Next time I’m gonna fuck your tits.” You murmur to yourself. Asa groans. 

A glance down to his side shows the deep bruise left by your boot. You place your hand over it. It’s hot to the touch, swollen. You press down slightly, and Asa makes a wounded noise, his breathing shallow. 

“Sorry,” You tell him, voice dripping with mock sincerity. He glares at you, and you squeeze his side until he whines. 

You hadn’t meant to break anything, but it’s nice to know he’ll be hurt for weeks after. If he tries to forget tonight, there will still be the imprint of your boot, your teeth and nails, his own knife cut into his skin. No, he’ll never forget you. You’ll make sure of it. 

Asa turns his head away when you bring your hand to his mouth. You grip his jaw tight, jerking his head back. The knife comes away from his throat, and you press the cold blade to his belly, pushing it against his skin just enough to leave a thin red line. Blood beads from the cut. It’ll barely scab, much less scar, but you have more time, sunrise hours away. 

_ “Look at me.”  _ You say, voice low.

He does. His eyes are dark, you can’t place the color but you think it might be brown or black or maybe a dark green. You can almost feel the anger rolling off him in waves. You press your fingers through the slit in his mask. 

“Suck.” 

His mouth opens, and you slide them until he gags, before pressing down on his tongue. His lips close around your fingers, seeming as though he had wanted to bite down, but thought better of it, leaving nothing more than a light pressure . He sucks a bit too messily. Drool spills from the corners of his mouth.

“Good boy,” You croon. “Roll over.” 

Asa fixes you with a another look, this one less anger and more 

“I know, I know,” you motion absently with your wet hand. “Your ribs must hurt, but I wouldn’t have had to kick you if you’d just behaved.” 

He huffs, gloved hand coming up to push you off. There’s no resistance from you, too aroused to try and make him fight you off. He lifts himself up on his elbows, and rolls onto his front. 

It’s hard not to feel like he’s presenting himself to you when he’s on his knees. You kneel behind him, pushing his sweater up his back to admire the arch of his spine. You place the knife down on the concrete. 

You reach around to unbuckle his belt, pulling it free from the loops and tap the small of his back. Asa sighs, and settles himself down on his chest, cheek pressed to the concrete. You take his wrists and tie them with his belt. He clenches and relaxes his fists, twisting his wrists to test the bindings. They hold. 

“You’ll give yourself bruises if you don’t stop,” 

He jerks against them once more, most likely to spite you, and goes still save for the tremble that seems to have overtaken him . 

You tug his jeans down to the bend of his knees, trailing your fingertips up the back of his thighs. 

You spread him open, pressing your thumb against his hole and add just enough pressure to scare him. Asa tenses, and speaks for the first time. 

_ “Dry?”  _ He asks. There’s a hint of panic in his voice. He was never one to talk more than he had to, and the sound of him is always sweet. The ache in your chest throbs in time with your cock. 

“Only if you’re bad,” You grin, and slide your hands over his ass to grip at his bare hips, digging your nails in until you see him flinch. “If you weren’t such a sick fuck, I’d be a whole lot nicer.” 

His breathing stills. 

“Yeah, I know all about you,” You say, voice soft as you drag your nails across his skin. “This isn’t revenge, I don’t care about the people you’ve killed, I just think you’re fucked up.”

You’re painfully hard, cock dripping precum onto the pavement. You fumble with your jacket, shoving your hands into your pockets until one closes around a cold bottle. 

“Hypocritical of me, I’m sure, all things considering.” You pat Asa’s hip. “It’s a bit hot, if I’m honest.” 

The sound of the cap opening is loud, harsh. It makes you wince. Your whole body is alight, hot all over. 

Asa jolts when you spill lube over his hole.

“Are you a virgin? I’ve been meaning to ask.” You say, shoving two fingers in at once. “I think you are. Only a virgin would react like you.” 

You twist your fingers, adding a third far too early. If he was anyone else, you’ll take your time with it, edge him for hours and make him cum twice before you fucked him. But he’s not someone else. He’s Asa, and you’ve been itching to touch him for months. 

“If you aren’t,  _ well _ , you certainly ain’t been fucked before.” 

He’s not ready, just shy of too tight for it to be comfortable for either of you, but you’re shaking, covered in sweat and goosebumps, too wired to wait. You slick yourself up and press the head of your cock to his hole. For a moment, you just stay like that, trying to control your breathing. 

“I was—” You let out a moan, trailing off with a giddy laugh. “—disgusted at first. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to fuck you.” 

You push forward, gasping when the head pops in. Asa groans, struggling against his restraints. You shush him, placing a placating hand on his back. 

“ _ Fuck!  _ Fuck, you’re so tight,” 

You shift, pushing in further even as you meet resistance. All you can hear is Asa’s ragged breathing, loud over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. 

“Does it hurt? I hope so,” You groan as you bottom out, the hand on his back sliding up to his bound wrists. You take hold of the leather, using it as a grip to fuck into the tight, wet heat of his insides. 

Asa gasps when you pull. The force of it jerks his arms back painfully. You grin, and pull again just to hear his voice begin to crescendo. 

“You’d let me do anything, huh. Would you let me cut you?” 

Asa remains silent, though you didn’t expect him to respond. You have your answer, can almost hear him saying  _ no,  _ seething with rage and arousal. 

“Doesn’t matter either way. You’re nothing but a bitch. Barely even tried to fight back.” 

“ _ Shut up,”  _ Asa sounds broken, voice raw and watery. .

“Yeah? You think you’re in any position to make me?” You snap your hips, bottoming out in a single thrust. “You want this. As much as you act like you don’t, if you didn’t I wouldn’t be in your guts.” 

“Fuck you,” 

You laugh, hands sliding to his ass. You use your thumbs to spread him open, watching your cock fuck into his hole. You’re wired, warm all over and burning where your skin meets his. You run your fingers over the welts you left on his back and ass, trying to soothe them with a gentle touch. When Asa relaxes, just slightly, you claw at them until your blunt nails draw blood. 

Your head drops between his shoulder blades when you cum, toes curling in your boots and nails digging into the soft skin of his hips. 

You stay pressed to him until your cock goes soft. Asa whines when you pull out, hot cum sliding down the inside of his thighs. You stand, and help him to his back, admiring the sight of his hard cock leaking against his stomach. 

“You’re  _ disgusting,”  _ You hiss, leaning down to kiss the side of his mask. “Getting off on this. You’re a bigger freak than I am. ” 

Asa glares at you, breathing heavy and uneven. 

“Well, _ Professor,”  _ You say, pressing the pad of your thumb to his lips. “If you ever want to play again, you know where to find me,”

His eyes go wide under his mask. You pocket his knife, and rise, sighing when the joints in your knees and hips  _ pop _ ., 

“You can get out of that!” You call to him, walking backwards across the manicured lawn, and all at once he starts to struggle, pulling at the belt binding his wrists. You cackle, taking off into the woods. 

He’s going to look for you, you can feel it. Already, your thoughts are racing, thighs warm, just thinking about the fun you’ll have during the second round. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I swear to you I was possessed when I wrote this
> 
> talk 2 me about slashers on twt @ alpheridiesrex


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